


A Fate Worse Than Death

by prhood



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prhood/pseuds/prhood
Summary: George Wickham gets his comeupance
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	A Fate Worse Than Death

George Wickham congratulated himself on his excellent judgement in leaving Meryton and Hertfordshire when he did. It was, at the time, an ignominious departure from mounting unpaid accounts with shopkeepers and, more dangerously, the ire of his fellow officers as his vowels assumed larger proportions. He had sufficient funds after payday to travel post to London and in that locale his fortunes began to reverse. He had, perforce, to be cautious, for there were those in town who would have greeted his presence with threats and violence, and made short work of the monies at his disposal. However, he had been circumspect, eschewing his usual haunts and the wisdom of doing so was quickly apparent. He had not the funds to venture games where stakes ran large, but smaller financial outlays were repaid with modest winnings. It was, he knew, hardly more than he might earn with honest work, using his education to a respectable purpose as, perhaps, as someone’s secretary, or as a clerk in some business or other. However, gainful work was, he assured himself – something he did with great regularity – a fate worse than death. He was meant for better things, and besides, gaming was much more pleasurable way to earn a living.

He thought nothing of his success the first time. It had been quite by accident that he entered the game at all. He had made the choice to spend his few spare coins on a cheap bottle of wine when he was invited to join a low-stakes game going on in the rear of the room. It was a momentous decision, for he had not the funds to both drink and gamble. He chose the latter, telling himself that should he lose half of his stake, he would retire from the table and enjoying a jug of the abominable ale they brewed there. His success took him quite by surprise and, when he rose from the table an hour later, his stake had trebled. He indulged in that cheap bottle of wine and the next evening reprised his performance at the gaming table. Forsaking any drink but a small beer, he again more than trebled his stake, walking away feeling flush with his success and resolved to adhere to the pattern which was proving so successful. He purchased and enjoyed another bottle of wine, one slightly superior to its predecessor. 

The trend continued and for once he chose not to feed his love of gambling by pursuing the higher stakes games. Instead, he found that success generated its own satisfaction and, after almost two months of play, his fortunes had grown to such an extent that he felt able to support a foray into fashionable society. His aspirations of a finer lifestyle could not be funded by his modest winnings from gambling. For that he required a fortune and his confidence in his ability to attract and retain the notice of a woman possessed of such a desirable attribute remained strong. He could not assay it in London, his reputation there was too well known, as were his features. He thought of going to Brighton which the Prince Regent had made fashionable; however, he had heard from his former acquaintances in the ____shire militia that they were to remove there for the summer. His presence would again not pass unnoticed. Of the other possibilities, Bath seemed the most attractive and thus, to Bath he would go.

He made the journey by post, settled himself into very modest accommodations which, though far from fashionable, were at least clean and pest free. The next stage in his plan was the acquisition of a small wardrobe of fashionable attire. It was not enough to act the part of a gentleman; one must dress accordingly if one hoped to convince a lady of means.

Then it was a matter of frequenting the various assemblies, not overlooking the famous Pump House. Over the course of a fortnight, he introduced himself to the various personages who acted as the Master of Ceremonies, using his charm to ingratiate himself into their favour. The inevitable introductions to ladies occurred, most frequently at the instigation of the ladies concerned, for his attractions were manifold and his charm unconstrained.

Whilst all this was taking place, he was able to continue his acquisition of the funds essential to maintaining his façade of respectability. While he did not win every night, his funds accumulated slowly and after a month’s residence had returned to the level that existed prior to his acquisition of a gentleman’s wardrobe. The only problem he now encountered was of a personal nature. He had not enjoyed the pleasure to be found with a young woman since departing Meryton. His jousting with Miss Bellinger was several months in the past and the time since had left him greatly in need; however, his reluctance to pay for such pleasures (and the dubious quality and health of those supplying it) had meant he had gone without. Once he felt himself settled in Bath, his explorations took an additional direction.

The Unicorn and Rose was where he most frequently spent his late evenings. The back room being his particular refuge. Emma Stride, daughter of the innkeeper, was a healthy, attractive young woman, perhaps twenty years of age, and the gossip of those with whom he gambled suggested her favours were not impossible to obtain.

“Yer handsome enough, Wickham. With a glib tongue. I doubt ye’d have any trouble beddin’ her,” laughed a man called Thompson. His mates chuckled in agreement, although one suggested he beware of her father. “He takes poorly to anyone getting’ too friendly.”

“Ar, that’s because you attempted to grab her teat that time!”

They all laughed once more at the man’s discomfit which he quickly put aside and joined. “Dinna be saying I didna warn ya,” he added.

Wickham smiled, and resolved to pay greater attention to the girl. 

As it happened, Emma Stride was not at all averse to sharing a bed with Wickham. In fact, he almost had the feeling she was propositioning him, rather than the reverse. The only problem from his perspective was that she would welcome him only in her bed and had no intention of visiting his. That was, given her many attractions, not a serious impediment and Wickham very shortly found himself in her warm embrace with the usual consequences. So eager was she to joust that, after plying him with several glasses of wine (a most respectable vintage as well), she rode him St. George to another very satisfactory conclusion for them both.

This additional effort quite tired him and, despite his avowals of returning to his own bed, he was soon fast asleep. This happy, relaxed state was not to last. It seemed to George that he had only just closed his eyes when a loud noise, which he soon came to understand was the door of Emma’s bedchamber slamming shut, brought him upright in bed.

“Wha…”

Further expression ceased upon recognizing the room’s inhabitants. In addition to Emma herself, still garbed only as nature provided, though now somewhat discretely covered by a bedsheet, another was present. Mr. Stride, wearing all of his clothes, was scowling in a most fearsome manner and could, Wickham believed, offer Darcy lessons in that regard. He looked about frantically for his clothes until Emma coughed loudly. They were in her possession and from the manner in which she was edging towards the door with them firmly in her grasp, he suspected he would not see them anytime soon. He drew the remaining bedsheet more closely about him.

Another look at Mr. Stride provided no relief. The scowl remained as fearsome as ever.

“Ahem,” said George, uncertain what would ensue. Fortunately, Mr. Stride did not appear intent on assaulting him.

“Yes,” said that gentleman, “I am glad to see that you are willing to marry my daughter. I have the license at hand and Mr. Wilks (pastor of the parish church) is available to marry you this morning.” He looked over at his daughter, who had now started to open the door. “Give me his clothes, Emma. He’ll not be needin’ ‘em before the wedding, and we wouldn’t want him to leave and forget to return in time for the ceremony, now would we? And make yerself decent, girl. This is a respectable establishment, and is about to get even more respectable now that we have Mr. Wickham to assist us, eh?”

Wickham looked at Emma who replied with a smile and a wink. Mr. Stride pushed her out of the room after she collected her clothes, and departed himself, not forgetting to lock the door behind him.

Wickham sat is a great deal of confusion for some minutes before scrambling to the room’s only widow. He supposed he might squeeze through it; however, it was almost thirty feet from the ground and bereft of clothing as he was, he could hardly hope to make his way to his own quarters undetected. Besides, as he squinted down, it was clear the window gave unto the courtyard and there was a fair amount of traffic. He was well and truly trapped. 

As he gave further though to his predicament, he became certain that some small amount of a drug, laudanum probably, had been added to the wine. Not a great deal, but enough that, combined with his natural drowsiness after such exertions, he fell asleep. This whole business had been a setup, and were it anyone else so ensnared, he might better appreciate its cunning and effectiveness. Unless he could escape, it seemed all his careful planning was for naught.

George Wickham was quite right. Mr. Stride returned several hours later bearing his clothing and accompanied by two of his grooms whom Wickham had more than once observed dealing easily with an obstreperous patron. He had no doubt of their ability to deal with him.

Thus, a short time later Mr. George Wickham and Miss Emma Stride were joined in holy matrimony, and Wickham found himself learning another new profession – innkeeper, for it seems that Mr. Stride had no son to inherit and had been awaiting the arrival of a man of apparent gentility. 

Wickham’s thoughts of escaping after the wedding were put aside when his new father-in-law pointedly noted the presence of two rather large men who would be accompanying him wherever he might go.

“Dinna think you can scarper off, m’boy,” said Mr. Stride. “I’ll find yee no matter where yee hide, and then it’ll be the worse for yee. Emma will have no use from you for a week at the least.” He smiled, and Wickham thought his effort to present a more agreeable mien a dismal failure.

“if’n you’re a good lad, you can make a right proper living out of this place. Better’n than the bit of gambling y’do in me back room. Emma’s my only child and I’ll leave the place to her in trust for yourn son, eh!”

He grinned at Wickham, “Na thought’s now on selling the place a making a run for it with the money. The place ain’t yourn and never will be, but if you put your fancy manners to work, you can make it the best inn in Bath.”

~~~~~~

Ten Years later

Wickham looked around the main room of the Unicorn and Rose with satisfaction. He had taken sole charge of the inn two years previous upon the death of his father-in-law. It was a going concern and profits had improved slightly evey year of his tenure. He possessed the happy knack of flattering with delicacy and, from his own personal knowledge, able to ensure that those small touches which enhanced the attractiveness of such an establishment, were always available to those with the coin to afford them. New visitors were pleased to stay at the inn and spoke warmly of it to their friends and acquaintances, and more often than not frequently made the Unicorn and Rose their preferred place to stay when visiting Bath. The wealthiest persons did not, of course, frequent his establishment, preferring to reside in one of Bath’s finer hotels; but modestly wealthy merchants and gentlemen of similar income, who could not afford Bath’s finest hotels, were delighted at the accommodations and service offered by his inn.

His wife joined him as he scanned the room and its clientele. She had bourn him three children and her figure had softened and spread slightly – as had his. Though hers might be attributable to having bourn children, his was the result of easy living, healthy meals and a want of exercise. As well, his hairline had receded over the years with the expansion of his waistline and he doubted not than in another ten years he would be as bald-pated as his father at the same age. Fortunately, Emma seemed not to care, and warmed his bed as vigorously now (though somewhat less frequently) as she ever did. 

He supposed that his fate had not, after all, been worse than death.


End file.
